Shimmer
by awinterfox
Summary: It appears as if the Night Mother has neglected her faithful children. The traitor's actions are getting bolder and more frequent. Various Brothers and Sisters are failing their missions. Will someone be able to prevent the Dark Brotherhood's downfall?


**Chapter One**

**'Sun It Rises'**

Banus Alor was not at all convinced about his current contract. It seemed to him a mockery, especially when it came to the fact that he didn't have a single idea as to who his victim might be.

With J'Ghasta's roar of laughter still ringing wildly in his sensitive ears, a dagger hidden amidst the folds of his neat clothes, Banus roamed the streets of the Imperial City, his saunter a peaceful one. He earned himself curious looks from the female citizens, as well as some males, but he failed to notice that, for he was fixated upon finding his victim. Ungolim, the Honorable Listener, had failed to instruct him as he was currently bedridden with a fever, a runny nose and a pretty much non-existent voice, and because Ungolim's handwriting was one of the ugliest and most incorrigible the Black Hand has ever seen, no one actually knew what their Listener was trying to say. His shaky hand and dizziness were of no help, either. He'd also occasionally pass out while talking to someone, but mostly he was just a bundle of raging nerves. J'Ghasta and Lucien had to pin him down, too, when Banus queried for the fifth time on the whereabouts of the person he was assigned to murder. Oddly enough, Ungolim was on a verge of tearing their heads off at that moment and Banus could not comprehend his behaviour. Lucien thought it best to leave him alone to his suffering and with haste advanced toward Cheydinhal, smirking wickedly. The Dunmer could swear he even cackled.

Nobody paid a visit to the Lucky Old Lady in order to ask for an explanation, as nowadays she refused to talk to anyone but the Listener.

It was a perfect sunny day in the Imperial City, and a refreshing breeze made Banus smile to himself. He reveled in the thought for a while and then proceeded to scrutinize his surroundings, looking for something, maybe a teeny hint, a glimpse of someone with fear in their eyes, eyeing the passers-by suspiciously, twisting hands in anticipation of their end. No such thing Banus observed, though, and soon the late afternoon hours came and the sun was already setting, painting the sky orange.

Banus, considered to be - alongside Vicente Valitieri, Cheydinhal's resident vampire - the calmest member the Dark Brotherhood ever had the honour to have in their ranks - gritted his teeth and frowned deeply. He was now sitting in Tiber Septim's Hotel, red eyes trailing after every guest, looking for something to click into place and finally find what he's been looking for since the very morning. Of course, he weighed the option of spending a few days here and was provided with a considerable sum of money by Lucien Lachance and J'Ghasta (Banus ogled at them and tried to push the gold back into their hands, but they refused and wished him good luck with everything, and that was when the Khajiit _laughed_).

The probability that they were watching his struggle right now was very high, indeed. And he didn't enjoy it one bit. He made a mental note to never mention any of his missions to them again and make sure that they're not around when he's being assigned one.

Especially not the Khajiit.

The guy had absolutely no qualms whatsoever…

Wait.

Banus strained his eyes, squinting hard at the person standing behind the counter. The man was wary, he could tell. Wary and impatient, and his gaze swept across the room every now and then, every nook and cranny carefully observed. Although his posture remained relaxed all the time.

Either the man was generally a person suffering from persecution mania or was afraid of being in heavily crowded places, or basically looking for a sign that might tell him about the presence of his executor. In a casual two-piece black-burgundy outfit, Banus looked no different that dozens of people the man met on the street every day.

What was left was hope that this was actually Banus' target.

He may have to investigate a little, follow the guy, ask around. People usually trusted Banus, as he had an aura of an amiable person, especially since his smile was 'captivating', as Lucien once remarked. Well, this smile was always a genuine one. He liked people. He liked talking to them, being in a company, even while around his Speaker, Uvani – who, in turn, was a jerk extraordinaire and seemed to abhor everything that moved.

That was why the ever-scowling Alval Uvani was denied the mission (for he had been rather eager to take it – considering that his missions were now a pretty rare occurrence, as the Night Mother wanted him to suffer the consequences of badmouthing Ungolim, thus taking him off-duty for a couple of months). Banus seemed just the right person for the task, with his wide range of social skills and a natural smile plastered to a handsome face.

Red eyes glowed with amusement as they followed the man's stumble against a chair's leg and pointed ears caught a murmured apology directed at a young woman like a mesh.

This Breton was obviously sweating. Banus could see little glistening buds of sweat forming on the man's forehead. His moves became frantic – slightly, but not slightly enough to be ignored by Banus' sharp gaze. The woman turned around, lips forming a tight line, scowling.

For a fleeting moment Banus wondered about the wrongdoings of this man. The Breton was obviously hiding something, now with the emotions and fear accumulated within him, it was bound to end up like this, unless you were a professional liar and a cold-hearted bastard. The time was right for making any moves, especially the questioning.

Banus finished his second glass of Tamika's fine wine and commenced what he, apart from artful killing, did best – socializing.

* * *

An hour or so later, fate smiled upon the assassin, feeding him with information of utmost importance. The things he's learned so far were enough to put any man to shame. So Banus strolled in front of Tiber Septim lazily, fingers occasionally brushing the hidden weapon of his, and waited. Granted, this one was the right one. The _target_. Subjected to death from Alor's hands. He'll be slayed like the pig he is and no one will mourn him.

The Breton had to die.

No ifs or buts about that. Either way, the Night Mother will be immensely pleased. It wasn't like the Dark Brotherhood was made of wannabe heroes who roamed Cyrodill promoting justice by ridding the world of the bad people. Despite all this, Banus felt a sharp pang of disgust that was welling up in him since the first piece of information had been delivered to him.

The man had raped and killed his own wife; afterwards took to claiming that this was all Dark Brotherhood's dirty work. A scorching offence which in many cases resulted in instant annihilation. Moreover, this Breton – Bastien Vigneron – had already made open statements about his wife's death, considering it wise to put the blame on this particular guild. This would explain Phillida's more frequent patrols in Cyrodill. No one in the Brotherhood ever resorted to violating their victim's body in such a way. Ever. If they did, however, they were instantly dealt with by the other members or by their family from the Sanctuary they inhabited. Still, all things gory, insane and violent were promptly associated with the assassins ('homicidal maniacs' as Phillida liked to put it), so it did not really surprise Banus that people should think it was their doing.

Vigneron stumbled out of the Tiber Septim, gaze wary, sweeping over the surrounding buildings and the statue. Banus, safe thanks to his Chameleon spell, stood right next to him, waiting. For a fleeting moment he thought he felt his dagger quiver at the sight of this man. It had spilled blood not so long ago, but it was yearning for more. A wish Banus could fulfill, and gladly.

Such was the beauty of being a part of a big, loving family of assassins.

The Breton shook his head, leaving the outdoor stairs of Tiber Septim's. His uneven steps led him to the street on the right, and Banus followed, like a deadly shadow.

* * *

Times like this, Vigneron wished he was elsewhere. His Detect Life ring, which had belonged to his late wife, always proved useful, even though it drained his stamina like some sort of a vampire. Except the man who was currently stalking him had a really powerful coat of Invisibility spell which also made him almost undetectable to the ring… _almost_.

The man's panting quickened as he slid the key into the keyhole and just as he was about to turn it, he gave his surroundings a prompt once-over. The street seemed perfectly empty, apart from his stalker's lightblue silhouette standing so dangerously close to him, reminiscent of a puff of breathing smoke. Knees like jelly, Vigneron strode into the house and shut the door behind him with brute force, so the person following him could not enter the household at the same moment. Only then could he breathe a sigh of relief. Once the door was locked… barricaded even with the help of a few nifty spells, the Breton lit more candles and rubbed his hands together. The assassin – as he now chose to refer to his stalker – was unable to enter the building unless he could walk through walls or miraculously survived opening his basement window. This place was heavily guarded like a little fortress, ever since his wife died. Oh yes, he expected trouble. But he could deal with it, alright.

Besides, Roselle started sniffing around not a few days ago, the caring sister in mourning that she was. He hated her with a passion. But there was nothing to fear when it came to poor Rose, who lived in Waterfront and barely had the money to buy herself bread nowadays. If her younger sister was still alive, she'd be provided with money every week, just like before. Now the bank was closed and the Rose-girl could count on nothing from Bastien.

The Waterfront inhabitants were like tiny pests, and annoyingly determined at that. Dangerous even. What calmed him was the knowledge that Rose had absolutely no money to buy herself Dark Brotherhood's service.

Roselle was a pest who could do nothing but glare at him. Then, there was the Bosmer who lived next door. A person most likely to send an assassin to eliminate him. He took a liking to his whore of a wife over the past few months and even had the guts to come bearing flowers once in a while! Bastien Vigneron wouldn't have known about it, if he hadn't seen them in the garden just behind the Bosmer's house. Consolation. A shoulder to cry on. Bloody womanizer. He wondered how many secrets and suspicions his wife shared with this man. Areldil, if his memory served him well. If Suzette had gotten real close to this Bosmeri trash, then something must have slipped down her treacherous tongue, during breaks between the kisses she gave him.

He smirked.

Areldil was plain dangerous but he was a mere nightblade. He stood no chance against Bastien Vigneron, a Mythic Dawn agent.

He took off the damn ring before it managed to suck out all the life force that was left in him, tossed it away and watched it land on the floor.

How good it was to feel life returning to your muscles, your fingertips tingling with the atoms of strength that were so much needed. Now it was time to gather some weapons (_just in case_, his subconscious whispered to him, _just in case you had to deal with this assassin, which was unlikely, but it's always better to be _prepared_, unlike Suzette_) from the basement. He opened the door leading to the lower levels of his house and disappeared behind them.

By then, Banus had already slipped into the building, his predatory gaze landing on every single piece of furniture, every wall, every candlestick… and he heard a faint sound of Vigneron's footfalls, making their way downstairs, to the basement. Banus' left hand got viciously cut thanks to this Breton's fanciful traps. One of the spells nearly blinded him while he was picking the lock, but he sensed its presence just before it collided with his face. An ugly customer, this Vigneron lad. However, to put Banus Alor off was a hard thing to do, indeed. Danger made the mission all the more tempting to him.

And insanely interesting as well.

The Dunmer trudged along the wall, scarcely in the mood for waiting, grinning to himself. He noted that the door leading to the basement was left unenchanted, as if his 'host's' trip downstairs was meant to be a very quick one. Quick enough to return in a flash and lay enchantments on the door before anyone managed to slip in.

This worked to assassin's advantage. Veiling himself with an Invisibility spell, he pulled out his dagger and descended down the stairs.

Halfway down, he heard loud shuffling and muffled curses.

Banus' smile faded as he neared his destination, dagger raised to shoulder level.

The sounds of struggle.

Could Vigneron have brought a victim to his house and now he was planning to do something to them? Not with the door lacking the necessary enchantments. _Not_ with the…

He walked in on Vigneron's death.

A knife plummeted down at the Breton's bared throat and waves of crimson burst from it, dirtying his well-groomed clothes. The attacker sliced it with a horrifying precision, one that any assassin would take pride in. Banus didn't dare move an inch as someone thrust Vigneron's lifeless form to the wooden floor, now adorned with small pools of dark blood.

A woman. Definitely a woman. He could see curves under this person's outfit, thanks to the dim candlelight, along with the shudders that overtook her. He didn't know whether she was sobbing or not. She swiftly made her way through the basement door, her moves awkward and inexperienced; she almost got stuck and he heard a yelp. Her leg was bleeding like Vigneron's freshly abused throat. Banus imagined it was due to some trap she had stumbled upon earlier. The whole house was practically spiked with traps. Or maybe Vigneron himself inflicted the wound?

Banus decided that leaving the crime scene was actually not that bad an idea and escaped the place through the still open door (the woman had no idea how to cover her tracks – the blood was everywhere).

_Am I supposed to follow her now?_ He pondered, once on the moonlit street of Talos Plaza. He did spot blood on the grass. Sloppy footsteps of the murderess who escaped mere seconds ago.

What irked him most was the fact that Vigneron might not have been his victim at all. And if he was… no reward for him this time. Only trademark bashing by Uvani and Ungolim's resigned expression accompanied by temporary outbursts of fury.

At least he found a new recruit.

The woman was soon to be visited by one of the Speakers and allowed the chance to join their…

…rather unique family.

Banus' countenance now bore a wolfish smile as he strode down the street and out the city gates to report on his failure.

Oh, the woman will get to know her place once she's among their ranks.

His smile widened.


End file.
